I have always been the kind of person that remembers arbitrary dates. I know when Chris and I went on our first date, when I graduated from high school and college, the birthdays of friends I haven't seen in a decade, and when I went on various vacations. Some of this can be attributed to my photographic memory, but some dates ... some dates, you just remember.Today would have been my five-year anniversary at The Times.
Today also marks two years since I first went to Seattle OBGYN because I was having problems getting pregnant.
Today, I have no job, no prospects, and I'm so pregnant that I feel like I am about to tip over. (Seriously, Collin's head is so low that I keep expecting it to pop out and ask for a frappucino. Shock of shocks, my OB doesn't think I will make it to my due date.)
And for the first time in my adult life, I feel like I am truly flying without a safety net.
Type A people like control. They like routine. They like knowing what they're up against, and what they're striving for. And they're determined to succeed. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that most copy editors are Type A, myself included. I mean, think about it: We're paid to be totally anal-retentive, and get satisfaction from finding and fixing other people's mistakes.
And because there aren't a whole lot of AP Style errors to be found or headlines to be written while sitting on my couch, it also should come as no surprise that going on six months later, I still miss my job. Most people don't end up doing for a living what they proclaimed they were going to do at age 12. (If that were the case, the U.S. healthcare and legal systems would be in even worse trouble than they actually are.) I was immensely proud to work for The Times, and to get to be part of the ever-evolving business of gatekeeping.
Then the newspaper industry crumbled and killed my dream of being Lois Lane.
Fortunately, I have a new career, which currently involves frequent urination and insomnia, and will soon call for midnight feedings and Baby Bjorns. (Side note: We got one as a gift, and it still scares the hell out of me, so I have practiced walking with my Clark bear.) I have really enjoyed being able to prepare for Collin's arrival in a leisurely manner (and yes, that includes all the baking). It's been a surprise to both myself, and Chris, who didn't think I'd make it two weeks without having a nervous breakdown over being out of work.
I am completely terrified about childbirth, but I cannot wait to be Collin's mom. The prospect alone makes the impending pain worth it. (And we all know how I feel about pain.) It really hit me when Chris took me to the Space Needle a few weeks ago for dinner (hence the picture where I'm all dressed up, as opposed to my regular wardrobe of pajamas and slippers). It was a very sweet Mother's Day/thank you for having our baby present.
I got a Mother's Day present.
That means I am going to be someone's mother.
And that's what I mean about not having a safety net.
I knew how to be a journalist. For four and a half years, I woke up, put on high heels and pinstriped skirts, got in my car, drove to Seattle, walked into The Times and sat down at my desk to edit stories and write headlines. Motherhood isn't as cut-and-dry. I can't control what happens, and there's no guide to tell me the right answers for my child.
In short, Lois (or, for that matter, Superman) isn't going to help me here.
Fortunately, I have some great stand-ins. My own mom is pretty freaking fabulous (even if she refused to bring me a sprinkly donut yesterday; something about needing to eat healthy for the baby, hmph), and my sister-in-law is not only a great mom, but unfailingly answers my panicky questions about epidurals and baby sunblock.
And my work friends, once my mentors in writing A1 headlines and slotting, give me great advice and so much to look forward to (or not, in the case of Elouise, whose daughter will be of driving age soon). I am also lucky to have a cache of great girlfriends online, spread out across the globe, who are awesome as not only moms, but Disney-going aunts, too. I have learned so much from all of them, and I don't even have a child to apply it to yet.
Maybe I don't need a net.
And maybe, just maybe, I can figure out how to be a super mom, too.
Glad you enjoyed the trip. I'm excited to begin our next journey in life together.
ReplyDeleteYou're already a Super mom. You will be all you can be through ups and downs, and we'll all be here with you offering whatever we can to help you down the unknown path of parenthood.
ReplyDeleteAnd, just like Lois, your husband might have to rush out of the (sports) room with barely a nod to his editor to rush off to be at your side... and save you.. offer a hand for you to break.... oh - and you DID pack that rolling pin the hospital said to right? You know what the rolling pin is for right Chris? If you played american footy.. now might be the time to pull out your college/school helmet to pack for the delivery suite as well.
Hah! You guys are going to do great. I can't think of more deserving people. You're new life is sooo close...
You go girl! We're here for ya!
Your experience and feelings really take me back to when I was a new mom, 14 years ago. Like you, I left a high flying career to take care of my kids, and like you, I wondered how the heck I was going to survive it in those early months.
ReplyDeleteI can't promise you'll end up embracing being a SAHM the same way I ultimately did, but I can tell you that the first six months were the hardest. I'd left my career, my family, my friends, and the big metro area I grew up in to move to a small town several hours away where I met exactly one other college-educated woman during my two years there. I was stuck at home in the snow belt (we'd usually have 2 feet or more on the ground by Nov 1) with a toddler who threw up every time we took a car trip (so even grocery store trips were a 50-50 shot as to whether we'd even get out of the car) and a husband who was so busy launching a new career that he wasn't home until 10, 11, or even midnight, several nights a week.
For me, what ended up changing my attitude was ... well, that I decided to change my attitude. I stopped focusing on what I'd given up, and figured I better just enjoy everything I did have to the fullest. My daughter was my little buddy and my internet friends were always around to keep me from feeling lonely for adult conversation. (Plus there were new L&C episodes to discuss and tons of new fanfic. *g*) My life still wasn't perfect, but I was a lot happier when I chose to focus on the positives.
Things improved vastly in the coming years as far as my free time went, and now my kids are old enough that I could go back to work. But ironically enough, now I don't even want to. :)
Long story short -- enjoy that baby to the fullest, throw yourself into your hobbies and volunteer work, and have fun. I'm in the limbo stage now -- done with having babies, but still at least 10 years off from grandkids -- and I kind of envy you the journey you're about to embark on. :)